


If Only I Could Let Go

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Hannigram - Freeform, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 09:22:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4782131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal visits Will at his house after eight months of separation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Only I Could Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> Consider this an alternative Hannigram reunion after eight months of separation following Mizumono. Enjoy!

'The same atrocious aftershave...'

Will froze, grip tightening on the edge of the kitchen counter. 

‘No...’ he heard himself murmur. 

He heard Hannibal’s intake of breath, felt a shadow envelope him. 

‘Will?’

Will’s nails grated against the cool work surface. He shook his head, planted his feet more firmly on the ground. 

‘Will...’

‘No.’ Will heard his own voice as if from a distance. It was easier to allow his instincts to take over, to distance himself from rational thought before he was forced to confront the pain he had lived with for so long. ‘I don’t want explanations. I don’t want to know where you were or what you did. I don’t want to think about what you did to me. I want you to come here. I want to know that you’re real.’

Hannibal said nothing but Will heard him take a few steps forward, felt warm breath ghost over the back of his neck. Will drew one slightly shaking breath before reaching behind him and curling his hand around Hannibal’s wrist, pulling him forward until Hannibal’s body had him pinned against the counter.  
Hannibal disentangled himself gently from Will’s grip and wound his arm around Will’s waist, hand pressed flat against his abdomen. They stood for a moment, listening to the slightly elevated rhythm of each other’s hearts, the steady regularity of their breathing, dissolving into the quiet of the room.

Will closed his eyes and spoke mostly to himself. ‘I’ve had eight months to consider what I want...’

Hannibal’s lips brushed behind Will’s ear. ‘What do you want, Will?’

Will didn’t reply, merely tilted his head to the left to expose his throat to Hannibal’s searching mouth. 

Hannibal’s arm tightened around him. ‘You’re frightened by the things you want.’

‘Not anymore.’

Hannibal raised his free hand and placed it at the base of Will’s throat, fingers tracing the delicate bones, the ridges of his oesophagus. Will shivered as soft lips brushed the nape of his neck, tongue trailing a wet path up behind his ear.

‘How many times did you think about me whilst masturbating, Will?’ Hannibal’s voice was soft, even, mouth still hovering millimetres above Will’s skin. 

Will had to close his eyes, face burning. It would be futile to lie. ‘It’s not...I mean, it’s not something I keep a tally of.’

Hannibal chuckled quietly. ‘No, but I wonder how many times you lay in the dark, hand shaking as you stroked yourself, eyes squeezed shut as you envisioned my mouth around your cock.’ 

Will choked back a moan, hand tightening convulsively at the edge of the counter. ‘Jesus...’

‘Perhaps those fantasies weren’t always confined to your bedroom,’ Hannibal pulled at the bottom of Will’s t-shirt, hand burrowing beneath it, palms gliding gently over his stomach and chest. ‘Tell me, did they present themselves during our therapy sessions?’

Will made a low sound, back arching as Hannibal rubbed the pad of his thumb hard over his nipples. ‘Sometimes,’ he managed to gasp. His cock ached, hard and pressing uncomfortably against the counter.

‘How I wish you’d been so frank back then,’ Hannibal murmured, hand sweeping the length of Will’s torso, stopping just above the raised scar emblazoned across his lower abdomen. Will heard Hannibal’s intake of breath as he ran his forefinger across the mark. 

‘Beautiful...’ he whispered, scraping the edges with his nail. Will’s legs shook beneath him and it was only Hannibal’s weight holding him against the counter that stopped him from falling. He tipped his head back and rested it on Hannibal’s shoulder, relinquishing his grip on the counter, entangling his hand in Hannibal’s hair. He felt the push and faint heat of Hannibal’s erection against his lower back.

‘You branded me. It wasn’t heartbreak or revenge. It was possessive. Intimate.’

Hannibal clawed at the scar as if in response, twisting the swollen skin between his fingers and coaxing a low, strangled moan from Will. He bit down hard on his bottom lip, sweat gathering at the back of his neck. 

‘The situation deserved intimacy. Even in extremis.’ Hannibal’s voice was rough, teeth briefly pulling at Will’s earlobe. 

‘Did you consider cutting deeper?’

‘Yes,’ Hannibal let his hand fall to the waistband of Will’s jeans, plucking at his belt almost absentmindedly. ‘I was undecided in the moments prior.’

‘What...fuck...what convinced you?’ The taste of blood crept into Will’s mouth, his teeth sinking into his lip as Hannibal curved a hand over his cock, squeezing lightly. 

‘You, Will. Always you.’ 

Will was pushing up into Hannibal’s hand almost involuntarily. Hannibal’s free hand went back to the scar, nails scraping the length of it, following the curve upwards before pinching hard. Whatever sound Will made was enough to leave his throat raw as Hannibal’s hand retreated, leaving a dull, throbbing heat. 

‘Hannibal...’ Will was barely aware of what he was saying. His hips jerked as he rubbed himself against Hannibal’s hand. 

‘How I wish I had tasted you,’ Hannibal murmured, almost thoughtfully. ‘You have a unique scent. Sweet almost.’

Will winced in response to the shocking heat of Hannibal’s tongue as he dragged it slowly up the side of his neck before coming to rest just below his jaw. Warm breath, the soft press of his mouth above Will’s pulse, the scrape of teeth. Will groaned softly. 

‘Do it’ he gasped. 

One hand still caught firmly between Will’s legs, Hannibal dragged Will’s head back by his hair with the other. His tongue darted outwards, wetting the skin before he bit down. Will cried out, pulled at Hannibal’s hair, lost in the unrelenting pressure and suction. Hannibal stopped just short of breaking the skin and pressed a few soft kisses over the mark. The forming bruise throbbed dully. Will saw it clearly in his mind’s eye; stark red against his skin, deep purple indentations left by Hannibal’s teeth. He moaned as Hannibal began fumbling at his belt in earnest. Deft fingers pulled at the button, teased the zip downwards, hand burrowing inside to touch the bare skin of his cock. 

The first few strokes were slow, maddeningly tentative, only enough to relieve some of the ache. Will leant back to rest his head on Hannibal’s shoulder, forehead pressed into the warm curve of his neck. 

‘What did I smell like when you cut into me?’ Will murmured, hips jerking as Hannibal’s thumb swiped over the head of his cock. 

‘Bitter initially. Fear has notes of citrus. Your fear didn’t linger.’

The almost clinically professional tone of Hannibal’s voice made Will want to push harder. ‘And what was I left with?’ 

Hannibal drew a slightly shaking breath, nails digging into Will’s hip.

‘The scent was indefinable but it is one I often associated with anticipation. It would have been subconscious on your part but it is my belief that the prospect of being so agonisingly close to death was one you found exciting,’ Will groaned as Hannibal’s grip on his cock tightened, pace increasing. ’Death is the one certainty we are graced with from the moment of our conception. You have spent your life empathising with people so completely, your mind invaded by different unfamiliar eventualities that you have been jettisoned from your own sense of certainty. The moment I cut into you that assurance was returned to you.’ 

‘I felt...calm,’ Will could barely get any air behind the words. ‘At peace.’

‘Despite the pain?’ Hannibal lowered his head to brush the side of Will’s throat once more. 

‘The pain felt necessary...oh fuck, Hannibal...’ teeth scraped the bruise below his jaw. 

‘You felt that you deserved to suffer for your peace of mind.’

Will almost whimpered. ‘It excited me. The pain...I liked it.’ 

He heard Hannibal’s breath catch, hand working his cock until it felt raw. Will thrust his hips to get more, constantly on edge. 

Hannibal spoke softly into his ear ‘The sensation of the blade, tearing through you. Slicing through skin, tissue, muscle...’

‘Fuck, Hannibal, I’m close...’

‘You held me so tightly. The blood cascading between us...you pressed your body so desperately against mine...’

Will gasped, almost tore at Hannibal’s hair as he came, the press of Hannibal’s body holding him steady. The mundane silence of Will’s kitchen swallowed them as they stood together, chests heaving. Will disentangled his hand from Hannibal’s hair; wound it around his wrist once more. Hannibal stroked Will’s face with his free hand, thumb brushing his lower lip. Will willed himself to remain in the present moment, to feel the heat of Hannibal’s body against his, his hand against his cheek. When Will spoke, his voice was steady, almost calm.

‘If you leave me again, I’ll kill you.’

Hannibal took a breath, held it, traced his forefinger across Will’s cheekbone.

‘Consider that a threat reciprocated.’


End file.
